


there is hope in the grass of spring

by teddygit



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shingeki no Kyojin Fusion, Gen, Injured Shin-chan, SNK AU, midotaka if you look in the right direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddygit/pseuds/teddygit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazunari hears his breath, remembers why he's alive - and feels anger. snk au</p>
            </blockquote>





	there is hope in the grass of spring

Kazunari tries to walk calmly and slowly, but he can’t hear if his steps are stomps over the pounding in his head. Though, he hears his breath - or is he imagining it? He replays the scene over and over, hearing and remembering the slice of steel over skin, the crack of bones - 

A lurch stops in his throat, and he’s not sure if he’s holding back a scream or vomit. 

He picks up his pace, dropping all pretences. Kazunari’s anger creates a warpath that other soldiers instinctively avoid. He rarely shows his emotions so nakedly, and the curious and knowing faces of his allies only intensify his anger.

He even bumps into someone and doesn’t bat an eye. Just raises a hand in apology and continues.

“Midorima-kun is no longer in the clinic,” a voice says.

Kazunari looks back and names the mop of light blue hair. Tetsuya Kuroko stares back, face impassive. 

“Thanks,” he says. He faces the other’s direction and begins to walk past.

Tetsuya shifts slightly to the left, blocking his path. Kazunari stops, looks down, tries to mirror the other’s expression. He doesn’t see it, but feels Kuroko sigh.

Kazunari changes tactics. He gives a small smile, a subtle laugh. “Why are you so worried? It’s not like I’m going to kill him or anything.”

“That doesn’t really reassure me,” Tetsuya deadpans. His expression softens slightly. Kazunari, taken out of the moment, chuckles at how minute the change is. Or at the intention obscurely pouring out of him.

“Do you understand what he did, Takao-kun?” the other asks. 

“Yes.”

Kuroko shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Let me rephrase: do you understand why?”

Kazunari reels back, remembers, but keeps the smile on. “Not enough.”

The corners of Kuroko’s mouth finally turns upward. Kuroko crosses his arms and steps away. Kazunari nods and walks toward the exit. He clears the war from his path. Remembers why he’s here (a lowborn from Ehrmich, out for glory). Recalls his position (captain of the 13th squad of the Survey Corps). Hears Kiyoshi Miyaji’s words (“keep your cool. it’s your other only charm point.”)

Kazunari hikes the hill, glancing at the moon. It’s pretty big today. It becomes like that sometimes, though no one knows why. Kazunari feels its presence behind above, pulling him upward. Pushing him forward.

He finds Shintarou atop the hill, under the tree as usual. He sat cross-legged, leaning back against the tree trunk. Beside him is his standard military jacket, folded neatly under all the hilts and belts and the empty cartridges. A piece of bark sticks out, poking Shintarou’s nape. His shirt is white and clean, like the cast and the splint that supports his right arm. Kazunari almost doesn’t notice the bandages wrapping his shoulder.

“Shin-chan,” he calls.

Shintarou opens his eyes, looking straight ahead. He doesn’t call back.

Kazunari sits beside the discarded pile of uniforms and leans back. “What are you doing out here at this time of the night? It’s the peak season of insect activity, you know.”

“I don’t really have much skin exposed.”

“True,” Kazunari picks out a blade of grass and his lips mimic its curve, “but your face is. All those nights sleeping with guavas would be wasted!” Kazunari sniggers. “What would Momoi-chan say?”

“You’re being absurd,” Shintarou breathes out. After a while, he follows, “she might be happy for the lesser competition.”

“Did Shin-chan really just admit that he’s pretty?” Kazunari feels an edge to his voice and laughs, “oh, they’d love this.”

Shintarou mumbles dismissively and inspects the taping of his fingers.

Kazunari bows his head. “If Shin-chan was a second later, blemishes won't be the worst thing on your face.” He lets the wind whistle for a few moments, and then says, “and no one would like that at all.”

Shintarou wisely kept his peace. Kazunari breathes deeply. 

“How is your shoulder?”

It took a while before the other responded. “It’s fine. It’ll heal after a few days’ rest.”

“And your arm?”

“I will be able to return to duty a month from now, at least.”

“Liar.”

Shintarou almost flinches. He pointedly does not look at Kazunari’s direction. He breathes deeply again. And again.

“You’re an idiot. You’re supposed to be smart. You graduated second of our batch. You’re supposed to be smart,” Kazunari begins and really wants to go off on a tangent, really wants to drive into this thick man’s thicker skull that - 

“Why did you do it?” Kazunari says, his voice the calm before a storm. Shintarou doesn’t answer. Kazunari laughs, or chokes, “Shin-chan, please tell me.”

“It should be obvious,” he says.

“It iiiisnnn’t,” he drags, feeling his patience get pulled along. Kazunari waits for an explanation, a retort, or even a punch line. Nothing comes. Kazunari feels faint from trying to reign in his curses. 

“I am trying to see your rationale here, Shin-chan. Do you feel that I would have more significant contributions to the corps? Obviously, and it is, that’s not true. Do you think that others would be encouraged to - “

“What I did is not exactly rational,” Shintarou interrupts. Kazunari’s mind empties, and then is filled once more.

“So you think I’m incapable of protecting myself? You don’t strike me as a heroic type, Shin-chan,” Kazunari says, translating his curses into venom. He sees Shintarou sit up violently and his face scrunch in protest. 

“That’s not it. “

“Then what?” He stands up and screams. By now, an idea was gnawing at the sides of his brain, threatening to eat up all other ideas and surface. Cloud his judgment. Change his views. Kazunari kills the pest before any damage could be - 

Shintarou stands up as well, towering him easily. His eyes, which are usually the brilliant colour of the grass in spring, are dark. Like the colour of mold on a dead body. Kazunari feels trapped in them.

“You can’t die.”

The voice was reminiscent of Shintarou’s battle cry earlier, sounding a few beats after Kazunari has already half-accepted his fate. He woke up inches away from the titan’s mouth, felt his chest tighten against the titan’s grip, but still had enough strength and consciousness to yell at Shintarou to stop and look horrified. 

It didn’t deter him - it only spurred him on. Shintarou cut the titan’s hand. The titan must have hurt because he dropped Kazunari, who landed on his shins. Shintarou, however, was noticed earlier on. The titan used his free hand to push him in his mouth and bit down. Shintarou squirmed away, but his shoulder and arm were sacrificed. It took one and a half squads to rescue them both.

Kazunari tries to shoo away the sound of the slice of steel over skin, the crack of bones, the squelch of flesh being broken, the cries and commands of his squad members. But Shintarou, whose whisper drowned in the wind, spoke with firm determination, urgent desperation.

And Kazunari can’t unhear it now. Can’t banish the memory. Can’t deny.

“I can’t have that.” Shintarou continues. He looks at the cast in front of him and the full two inches of space in between them.

Shintarou looks back in Kazunari’s eyes, and the glasses or his tears reflect the light of the moon. Shintarou's eyes look like spring again.

“Kazunari,” he croaks, and closes the distance.

Kazunari freezes. He hears his breath. The pounding is still there - more pronounced than ever - but he’s sure he’s no longer imagining it. He feels alive and remembers why he’s here.

“You’re supposed to be smart,” he says, two lonely tears streaking his face as he too wraps his arms around Shintarou.

**Author's Note:**

> im not sure how this would fit the snk universe since as far as I know, mikasa’s the last (half-)asian. maybe this took place some generations back. idk
> 
> it’s my first time posting here and my first time writing in a long, long time. i have so many insecurities and im really sorry. if you have any critiques, please tell me
> 
> hope you enjoyed :D


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